Out In The Cold
by The Sarcastic Polar Bear
Summary: On their way to a conference, House and Wilson are in an accident. They must try to cling on together in the frigid snow. And together, they find out just how strong their friendship is. On hold
1. Chapter 1

It was a snowy winter. As it always was in New Jersey winters. House scowled as he looked out the window. The snow was only falling lightly, but it was the cold he despised. His leg pain increased when the weather grew colder. And slipping on ice was easily done. Especially when you're a cripple. And wrecking in your car wasn't that hard either. That's why Wilson wouldn't let House drive his motorcycle.

It was 5:58. Wilson would be up any minute. House had woken earlier than usual due to the more intense throbbing in his thigh. _Damn leg_, he thought. It was his own painful alarm clock. One he didn't call a good one. House sipped at his coffee. It had already cooled somewhat, as the heater wasn't hot enough yet to keep the condo warm. 6:00. Wilson was just waking up.

Wilson hit the snooze button on his alarm clock. It was time to get ready for his job at Princeton-Plainsboro. He sat up and stretched, then shivered slightly. He peered out the window. A thin layer of snow frosted the ground. A few small icicles hung from the window sill. New Jersey winters tended to be cold and snowy, as most residents well knew. Time to begin his morning routine, His "girly routine," as House called it. Wilson tied his robe and slipped his feet into his slippers and made his way to the kitchen, surprised to see House sitting at the table, drinking coffee.

'How long have you been up?" Wilson asked.

"About twenty minutes," House replied. He glanced at Wilson, who was pouring coffee into a mug for himself. House chose not to tell him it wasn't quite hot, he could figure it out himself. He smirked as Wilson rose his eyebrows typical Wilson-style.

"This is cold," he sputtered.

"Heat's not warm enough," House shrugged. Wilson checked the thermostat.

"No wonder, the thermostat's messed up," he said. "I left it on last night. Did you turn it off?"

"Yes, Wilson, I had heat stroke," House said sarcastically. "No, I turned it _up_." Somebody had to have tampered with it. Suddenly, he had a clue. Lucas had pranked them when they first got the condo. House scowled.

"Idea?" Wilson asked.

"I don't know, but I've got a damn good guess," House said. "Remember when Lucas pr-"

"Why, you think he did it?" Wilson asked. He ran the thought through his head, and the more he did, the more he thought House's guess made sense. Lucas wasn't a natural prankster, but being a PI, could easily break in and screw up their heating system. "Well, let's hurry to the hospital, it's warm there."

House shrugged and limped into his bedroom to slip into some warmer clothes. He selected heavier jeans, a long sleeved T-shirt and a heavy fleece jacket. He laced his sneakers and grabbed his cane again. He went into the kitchen and waited for Wilson. Funny how the cripple was ready first. The he remembered Wilson's "girly routine." He would comb his hair neatly, make sure his clothes were clean and wrinkle-free, and all that crap. None of which House did. He just slapped on his shoes and crammed on whatever he thought he should wear.

Wilson entered the kitchen and slipped into his warm coat after tying his tie neatly. He made sure his shoes were fastened well enough so that the laces didn't come undone. He stole a quick glance at House's shoes as well. House sometimes neglected to lace them more tightly than usual when needed. They looked tight enough. He just didn't want House to fall.

The men climbed inside Wilson's Volvo, and Wilson started the engine and carefully backed out into the street and turned in the direction of the hospital. He was about to park in his spot, but House pestered him to use his handicapped one. Wilson had been considering House's parking spot. It would be better for House not to have to walk so far. House hung the handicap parking label in the window and he and Wilson entered the hospital.

Cuddy, meanwhile, was preparing for the hospital conference. Lucas was driving her, even though he didn't work for the hospital. She knew Wilson was going, and House would eventually give in, as she planned to give him a few days off clinic duty. She felt her phone vibrate just as the door slammed open, revealing House. She read the text on her Blackberry, revealing a picture message from Lucas. Ignoring House, who stared at her, she smiled at the photo of Rachel.

"The boyfriend wanting to have the hots in the car later?" House asked with a smirk.

"How did you know it was Lu-"

"Wild guess," House said sarcastically. Truly, he was jealous. Cuddy rolled her eyes.

"Just make sure you're at the conference," she said.

"Maybe I won't come," House said simply.

"Yes, you are. House. you need to," Cuddy scolded.

"I don't wanna."

"Three days away from clinic once we get home."

"A week."

"Five days."

"Two weeks."

"Fine, House! A week!" Cuddy groaned in frustration. At least now he may actually show up. House simply smirked once more and limped out of her office, where he ventured to his diagnostic room, where his team was waiting as they always did.

It was later that evening, and House and Wilson were packing for the conference. Or rather, Wilson packing, House mocking.

"House, you need to pack," Wilson sighed.

"Already did," House insisted, revealing a duffel bag that he had stuffed with clothing articles. Wilson looked surprised. House rarely packed for conferences, let alone earlier than Wilson himself did. Wilson shrugged it off.

"Damn, I forgot to piss off Lucas today," House grumbled. "Now we have to sleep in a frozen condo."

"House, as much as I think it's true, you don't have proof that-" Wilson was interrupted by House.

"Yeah, he put an opossum in your bathroom, loosened the grab rail, and screwed with our fire sprinklers, I think he's innocent, what do you think?" House sarcastically cracked. Wilson rolled his eyes and zipped his suitcase.

"Just go to bed House," he said.

**I do realize I have three other House chapter fics up, but I just had to do this!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here you go, people! Only 5 reviews? Pooey! Guess I'm used to Captured getting like 9 a chapter! And have a fantastic birthday Lizzie Reid, here's your gift:**

House and Wilson were preparing for the conference trip. Or at least Wilson was. House was eating a donut. He watched TV as Wilson checked things and double checked a few certain things, such as things that might be tampered with.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"No, I'm ready to sleep," House said sarcastically. He followed Wilson outside to his car. House stuffed his cane into th backseat and settled into the comfortable seats of Wilson's vehicle. He was thinking over his list of ways to annoy Wilson as Wilson started the Volvo. Trashing the car would be fun if he had food. Mess with the radio? He would save that. Place a bet on the hotel they would be at? That might make a good start, he thought.

"Betcha the hotel has at least one prostitute nearby," he said. Wilson rolled his eyes. He wasn't all that shocked by House's behavior. He just didn't expect it to come so early.

"Wouldn't be surprised, there's a lot of prostitution nowadays." Just as Wilson spoke, House pointed out the window.

"There's one now," he said. Wilson glanced in the direction. Sure enough, there was a young prostitute. A heavy set one by that.

"She's the next supermodel," House cracked. He smirked. The girl's pants showed part of her butt, her large butt. "She's got an ass the size of that obese clinic patient you had." Wilson turned onto another highway. It was a two hour drive, and with House, it wasn't likely to be a quiet one. For the next fifteen minutes, House made sarcastic jokes about patients, insulted his team, complained about the traffic, and insisted he was starving. Wilson ignored him.

"Hotel has food," he said. House scowled. He looked at his cell phone. "An hour and forty five minutes," he said. "Time for an urgent text to the mistress." House typed a text about Cuddy's breasts and sent it to her. He was debating texting a sex comment to Thirteen when Cuddy called him. "Yes, madam?" he asked in a fake accent. He heard Cuddy sigh and knew she was rolling her eyes. He saw Wilson roll his again. House and Cuddy shared a short banter before House hit the end button and shoved the phone inside his jeans pocket.

"She's already there in the strip club," House joked.

"There's a str-" Wilson cut off when he noticed House was screwing with him. He watched as House fiddled with the radio. First rock, then pop, which he scowled at, then rock, then talk, then another talk show. 'House, make up your mind," he said. House shook his head and continued to browse through until he found a rock song. He leaned back into the seat. Wilson, however, knew House was likely to screw something else up. Before he could say anything, House's hand shot forward and turned the volume up, very loudly.

"House!" he yelled. House turned the radio off, content that he had annoyed Wilson successfully. He was quiet for a few minutes, then decided the ride was growing too boring and quiet without a rambling banter.

"Wonder if the maids have tight uniforms?" he questioned. Wilson sighed. House just never shut up. About anything. Especially sexual jokes.

"Can't you make it there without sex jokes?" Wilson pressed.

"No," House said flatly. "Not humanly possible. Fine, it is, I'll just mock people. Like that nurse with one D cup and one C cup."

"I guess you an mock. Wait, she has different sizes?" Wilson asked.

"No," House said. "That was my clinic patient. One side bigger, she was all worked up about it. Those 15 year olds get excited."

"She was 15?"

"Early bloomer," House said. He smirked at the fact he had gotten Wilson to participate in his conversation. "But that was nothing compared to this pregnant woman that was worried beacuse she was two months along with not much belly, she thought the baby was too small."

"Most pregnant women aren't that large at two months," Wilson said.

'That's what I said. She thought maybe she had pregnancy cancer. And I told her she had Severe Idiocy Syndrome," House answered. "She asked what the cure was."

"So, she pretty much proved your point? And you told her so?"

"How well do you know me? Now, there was one guy that broke his toe and asked if I would scan it for toe cancer," House said. "He thought toes weren't able to break. Then I had three with STD's. One was 15, one was 18, and the other was 68. Oldies out doing the biz," House cracked, his voice as filled with sarcasm as always. "Every other patient has an STD."

"Not too surprising," Wilson said. House continued to mock patients, added a few more insults about his team, commented on Cuddy's breasts, then mocked the other drivers on the road, with Wilson glaring at House as he rolled down the window.

"House, what are you do-" Wilson was quiet as he saw House giving the driver next to them the finger. The other driver quickly rolled up his window.

"House, why'd you do that?"

"Got bored," House shrugged. He furrowed his brow. 'It's getting cold, turn the heat back up." Wilson glanced at the knob and quickly turned it. It_ was_ growing a bit more chilly, he admitted. Too bad House had let in cold air.

"The snow's falling harder," House said. The heat was warming quickly, but it was still slightly cold. The snow suddenly fell even harder for a few seconds. The wind howled. House rubbed his leg. Ibuprofen wasn't that strong.

"You okay?" Wilson asked.

"Fine," House said. He looked out the window. The snow was flying again, this time faster. "Looks like a blizzard."

"Yep," Wilson agreed. He watched as House squinted at something through the window.

"Damn it," House muttered.

"What?" Wilson asked.

"That car's speeding, and if we don't get out of this spot, we're toast," House said. Suddenly, a horn wailed and lights grew brighter. A crunch was heard as Wilson's car was hit.

''What the hell?" House and Wilson gasped simultaneously as the car spun, then struck something, and everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

Wilson opened his eyes. He was sore, but it didn't feel like he had any actual injuries other than bruises or scratches. He remembered what had happened. He and House were in the car and were struck by another vehicle. House.

"House?" Wilson asked. No answer. House was seated in the seat across from him, eyes closed. Wilson immediately leaned towards him, checking his pulse. It was normal, but House seemed to be unconscious. Wilson shook House's shoulder, then quickly looked over him. His eyes fixed upon a blood stain on House's left side. House's eyes slowly flickered open.

"You okay?" Wilson asked. House opened his mouth to speak, but closed it and hissed in pain. His side hurt and his leg hurt like hell. He put a hand to his side and felt something damn and sticky. Blood. Wilson rose his eyebrows, typical Wilson-style.

"Fine," House muttered. Wilson didn't believe him for a minute. House never let weakness show. Wilson leaned forward to examine the wound, but House smacked his hand away.

"House, look at that bleeding, you have to stop it," Wilson pressed.

"Fine," House said, pressing his jacket against it. "Happy?"

"As long as you keep pressure on it."

House pressed more firmly. The cut stung and the blood was beginning to seap through his jacket. He winced. His leg was throbbing. He kept an arm pressed against his side and rubbed his leg with the other. Wilson continued to gaze at him worriedly. House knew Wilson was fighting the urge to check out the wound. House also knew he should let him, but refused to say so.

"Guess we should call 911," Wilson said, drawing his cell phone from his pocket. No signal. "Damn," he said. "Do you have a signal?"

"No," House said, peering at his own cell phone. He shoved it back into his pocket and rubbed his leg again. God, it hurt. He winced, and once again Wilson stretched towards him. House pushed his friend's hand away again.

"House," Wilson sighed.

"Wilson," House mocked, mimicking Wilson's sigh. Wilson rolled his eyes and leaned back into his seat. He knew he should ignore House's protests and inspect the injury. House seemed to be applying pressure but it was still bleeding. House pressed more firmly and tried not to show any more signs of pain. Wilson was already trying to take care of him. House always mocked him for caring.

"Maybe one of the idiots on the road will call help," House said.

"Maybe," Wilson said, hoping it would happen. The heater was cooling, as it had been damaged in the crash.

"That dumbass should have watched where he was going," House grumbled. "Then we would be on the road, not tossed off of it."

"I'm sure somebody will call the police. Or Cuddy may suspect something eventually and call them."

"Eventually?" House asked. Wilson sighed.

"I guess," he said. An hour passed and no help came.

Cuddy groaned in frustration. House and Wilson were supposed to have arrived an hour ago, and neither was answering their phones. Cuddy lay her phone on the nightstand in her hotel room. She looked down when she felt a tug on her pants. Rachel was holding her arms up, wanting to be picked up. Cuddy leaned down and lifted the toddler. Rachel patted her adoptive mother's shoulder and played with her hair. Cuddy twirled a finger through her daughter's hair. She kissed Rachel's forehead gently, and Rachel kissed her cheek. Cuddy tried Wilson's phone once again and received no answer. Cuddy sat on the bed and dropped the phone. Rachel crawled off of her lap and picked up the phone and played with the buttons. Cuddy traced circles with her finger on Rachel's arm. The baby howled in delight as the phone rang. Cuddy took it, hoping it would be House or Wilson. To her dismay, it wasn't either one of them. It was Lucas.

"Hey," she said.

_"Hi, baby," he greeted. "What's up?"_

"Frustrated," she said.

_"How come?"_

"House and Wilson were supposed to be here an hour and fifteen minutes ago but they're not here and they won't answer their phones," she explained.

_"I wouldn't worry about them, Lisa," Lucas said._

"What if something happened?" Cuddy asked.

_"If they don't call soon, we'll call the police, okay?"_

"Okay. Bye."

_"Bye, babe."_

Cuddy lay her Blackberry aside. Rachel took it once more and held it to her mouth. "Hey, give it," Cuddy said, prying it from the little girl's grasp. She handed Rachel a toy, which she began to chew on. She was like a puppy at times. Fifteen minutes went by. No call came.

House tapped his foot on the floor of the Volvo. His leg pain was getting worse and his side still bled. The ibuprofen he had taken did little, if any, good to ease the pain. Wilson shifted slightly to glance at him again.

"The bleeding still hasn't stopped?" He asked, though he knew it hadn't.

"Yes, Wilson, it did, I'm just spilling fruit punch," House commented sarcastically. "Through a slot in my side." Wilson rolled his eyes and tried to check it again, and once more House protested, pushing his hands away. He kept pushing them away until Wilson got an idea.

"I'll give you the $50 in my wallet if you let me," Wilson bet.

"Deal," House said. "Money first."

"No, because then you won't let me."

"But if I let you go first, you won't give it to me."

"Fine, if you let me go first, I'll give you $100."

"Nope, cash first."

"No, inspection."

"Money."

"Inspection."

"You won't give me the money.

"You won't let me look at it."

"Yes, I will."

"No, you won't."

"Will too."

"Will not."

"Cash first_. Now_."

"Exam first,_ now_."

"Only if you let me have the 100 dollars," House protested,

"No, because then you'll cheat," Wilson argued.

"Just give me the damn money," House begged,

"Fine!' Wilson groaned, passing the cash to House, who smirked and slipped it into his jeans pocket before smirking at Wilson. Wilson figured House had just cheated him 100 bucks. To his immense surprise, House turned to him and said,

"You can begin." Shocked, Wilson edged nearer and rolled House's jacket and shirt out of the way. He opened his mouth in shock at what he saw. He rose his eyebrows. The cut was still bleeding more badly than it should, and it was jagged and obviously deep enough for stitches.

"Damn," Wilson whispered. "Here, keep pressure on it, I'll try to find something to clean it with." Wilson turned around, scanning his car for anything helpful. Somehow he had left a small towel int he back, and stretched to get it. He started to clean the area, but House took the towel and did it himself. Wilson knew they needed help soon, because if House continued to bleed at that rate, things would only go downhill.


End file.
